South Park With An Older Twist

This fanfiction is a continuation or "new season" of sorts of South Park With An Odd Twist (see author profile). It is unnecessary to read the last "season", but there may be some references to it that you don't understand. You may want to go to Episode 10 of South Park With An Odd Twist, however, to see what happened to Kenny. Enjoy.

The characters, events and references to persons, places or things in this fanfiction are nearly entirely fictional. There may be some bits of the aforementioned articles that are reality, however the majority is fiction. This fiction will probably have some qualities that appear to be slanderous, however no slander is intended with these pieces of writing.
Also, serious situations and circumstances may be dealt with in this fanfiction in a sense that may seem demeaning or naïve. All these things have been written with full understanding of the seriousness of the situation/circumstance and have not been taken lightly.
In conclusion, this fanfiction, much like the television show it is based off of has been written purely for humourous reasons. If you don't like it, it is advisable that you do not continue reading.
Due to this, as well as coarse language, possibly sexuality and potentially detailed horrific scenes, reader discretion is advised. :D

Episode 1: The Anger Bubble

Christ, it felt like summer had only just started; maybe it had. Summers were always weird in South Park, just like everything and everybody else, really. But summer felt especially short this year, as if it was giving way to some horrible creature.

"Bubalah, are you up yet?" Mrs. Broflovski called to the older of her two sons.

"Yeah, mom. I'm up," Kyle returned the call as he pulled on his green hat to hide his afro-like hair.

The ten-year-old grabbed his backpack from his bed, where it sat with a few new notebooks and a pencil case of new pens and pencils within. Not to mention a new calculator and protractor set as well. His mother hadn't spared him this year. He had zipped it up and then headed out of his room and down the stairs.

In the kitchen, he found his younger, adoptive sibling, Ike sitting and eating some toast and downing a glass of juice. His father was sitting there reading the morning paper, as any father would and his mother set down a plate of toast and an egg in the place where Kyle always sat. The young boy sat down after putting his schoolbag by his chair and accepted the food.

"Are you boys excited?" Sheila Broflovski cooed with a wide grin. She seemed pleased as punch and damn it was too early in the morning for that shit. Well, at least she wasn't pissed off about something.

"It's just another year of school, mah," Kyle commented.

"Don't talk with your mouth full!" his mother scolded and he quickly swallowed the food in his mouth. Her gazed softened again quickly. "And it's not just another year! Grade five, Kyle! And Ike in grade one! You grow up so fast!"

'Yeah, right,' Kyle scoffed silently. It had seemed like fourth grade and being nine went on forever. Even now he didn't feel any older or any different. It was just another year.

"Your mother's right, boys," Gerald Broflovski put in his two cents as he turned the page of the newspaper. One had to wonder if he even knew what he was agreeing to. He probably didn't care.

Kyle sighed, continuing to eat his breakfast in silence as his mother went on about how this year was going to be so great for them at school.

'It'll be great if we don't get Mrs. Garrison again this year…' he thought silently. 'Here's hoping…'

xxxxxxx

It was at school that Kyle came across his friends. His mother had insisted on driving her sons to school, as if it was college and they wouldn't know how to get there, so he hadn't seen them at the bus stop like he normally would. But it wasn't college. It was the same old school, with the same old stupid people… speaking of same old people…

Kyle stood at his new locker, one that was right outside of their new classroom. He only knew that it was his because a name tag with his name had been placed upon it. He was putting the things he didn't need in there, his lunch money included and was about to close it when he heard two familiar voices. Each bore a significantly different tone.

"Kyle!" the first greeted happily, as if they hadn't seen each other in forever. Well, Stan had gone to visit relatives for the last week of summer vacation.

"If it isn't the Jew," Cartman's voice scathed, coming to stand beside Stan and staring at Kyle.

Cartman he had seen just yesterday in town, but by the sounds of it, it seemed like Cartman had been hoping Kyle would die overnight.

"Hey, dude," Kyle said to Stan with a smile. His tone turned darker as he looked to the largest of the three. "Cartman."

"If we get Mrs. Garrison again, will you kill yourself, Kyle?" he sounded hopeful. He stood with his large arms across his chest, and looked slightly like a bouncer at a club, save for his clothing.

Kyle just scoffed, not even bothering to dignify the question with a proper answer.

"Seriously, though. I hope we get a new teacher," Stan commented as they began to head down the hallway of students to the classroom.

"Who was the teacher last year?" Kyle asked with his backpack of the books he needed slung over his shoulder.

"They retired or something gay like that," Cartman snorted. "So they needed to find someone new."

"Shit. I hope it's not Garrison," Kyle cursed.

The trio entered into the classroom, where they saw their fellow classmates taking their seats. Quickly, the group of three boys took a set of seats near the back of the room so they could avoid whoever the teacher was. If it was Mrs. Garrison, they'd surely hide.

The bell rang and any few remaining who had been standing took a seat. Kyle pulled out one of his new notebooks and pens, setting them on the desk. He then took the time to peer around the new classroom. Well, it wasn't new, but new to him.

The classroom was larger, even though the amount of students was the same as last year. There were ridiculous posters on all the white walls. These posters were on bulletin boards and taped to the walls themselves. One thing that was the same about each educational poster was that they looked like they should have been in a grade one classroom rather than a classroom of grade fives.

"Dude, are we in the right room?" Stan whispered to Kyle as he'd taken to looking around the room, too. Kyle could only shrug.

"Looks like this year's going to be easy as shit, guys," Cartman commented, showing approval for the posters. "And I doubt Garrison would put up posters like that."

"He's right. Mrs. Garrison would probably put up posters that are anti-government or something," Kyle agreed with a nod.

A moment later, a form came bustling into the room. From what they could see as the teacher arranged papers on their desk, it definitely wasn't Mrs. Garrison. She was a stocky woman who wore clothes that were much too tight for her. The pink sweater stretched over her back (as that was what was facing them) and came almost too short of her waist. Her black skirt was tight and short, her chubby calves clearly showing before a pair of white socks and black shoes took them. Her dirty blonde hair was in a tight bun atop her head.

"Okay, class," she said finally, seeming to have her papers in order. They noticed a distinct accent in her voice.

It wasn't until she turned around that they figured out the accent was Canadian. Her appearance was strikingly Canadian, but that wasn't the only thing they noticed about her.

"Jesus Christ!" Stan exclaimed a little more loudly than he'd intended. The rest of the class just gasped, inhaling sharply.

"What is it?" the woman demanded as they all stared with their mouths agape.

"Nothing!" Kyle said quickly, elbowing Stan in the side to make him snap out of it. This was only possible because the desks were grouped in convenient threes. Cartman sat to Stan's right while Kyle to his left.

"Class, my name is Mrs. Crackhead. I'll be your teacher for this year," she continued, writing her name on the board now.

The class didn't know whether to cheer or shriek. It was like with Nurse Gollum, except there wasn't a dead foetus on the woman's head. Instead, on the right side of Mrs. Crackhead's head, near the temple, there was a reddish lump. It looked almost like a bubble and despite how she'd obviously tried to hide it with her hair, it was visible.

When they saw her turn around from the blackboard, they all suppressed a laugh. Cartman was the only one who snickered audibly. Across the woman's chest and protruding stomach, chalk had collected from the board on her shirt. Her pink sweater was now streaked with white.

She seemed nervous, but ignored their laughter, picking up the lime green attendance sheet. She recoiled as it burned her eyes, but continued with taking attendance anyway. As she did so, she drew out a seat chart so that she knew where each of them sat. Cartman grinned wickedly as she did so; apparently he had other plans for her seating chart.

"This is our schedule for the year," Mrs. Crackhead said as she walked over to and showed them a particular bulletin board when she was done.

The wall had a large bulletin board on it, and several smaller sheets were laminated and tacked to the board. At the top, one said "Classroom Schedule", just under that, the days of the week and then on the left it showed the periods and the time slots. To the right of the periods and under the days of the week, it showed the classes they would be taking.

"We'll start the morning with math," she said and pointed to show that each day did indeed start with math.

"What the hell? Math? Are you crazy?" Cartman demanded. Although he thought the class was going to be easy, considering how they were being treated, math was still math. And there was no way in hell he would be taking math in the morning.

"No, I'm not crazy, Mr…" she looked on her seating plan, "Cartman. Don't speak to me like that again." She said this in an even tone, but Cartman could see that she was slightly frazzled by his outburst.

"You are crazy," he muttered. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"Then, after math, we'll…" she continued on, but Kyle ignored her.

Kyle instead leaned over to talk to Stan.

"What is up with this lady?" Kyle whispered to his best friend.

"I don't know, dude. Maybe it's because she's from Canada?" Stan guessed with a shrug.

"No way. Ike's Canadian, and he turned out all right," Kyle shook his head.

"Yeah, but Ike grew up here, with you and your family," Stan pointed out, to which Kyle had to agree.

"Man, this lady is so weird. She's got a bug up her ass or something," Cartman leaned in to comment, too. "I bet she quits by Christmas."

"I doubt it. She seems like the kind to stick it out until the end no matter how bad it gets," Kyle said, even though he hadn't seen much of the woman's personality.

"I bet she's a French piece of shit, too," Cartman changed subject slightly.

"Boys," Mrs. Crackhead's voice spoke, catching the trio's attention. They stiffened slightly and immediately looked to her. "Pay attention, please."

"But we're not doing anything," Cartman insisted. "You're just standing there telling us what classes we'll have. What's the point of paying attention to that?"

"Mr. Cartman, none of that back-talking!" Mrs. Crackhead snapped, though again she looked frazzled.

"I'm just telling it like it is," Cartman continued.

"Dude, shut up. You're going to get us in trouble," Stan seethed.

"Any more of that and I'll send you to the principle's office!" Mrs. Crackhead warned. "Do you really want to go to the office on the first day of school?"

Cartman opened his mouth to say something, but shut up instead. Nah, it was too early to see the principle. Maybe later. He leaned back in his chair again, a smug smile playing on his lips slightly as he watched his new teacher.

Mrs. Crackhead turned away from Cartman and then headed back over to her desk. Beside it stood a book cart.

"Now, come up and take a text book. Don't lose them; they're expensive and if you lose it, you'll have to pay for it. Or your parents will, and I'm sure they won't be happy about it," Mrs. Crackhead said as she handed Wendy Testaburger, the first to have come to the cart since she was nearest to it, a book.

The other students also began filing up to get a text book, but Cartman refused to move from his seat.

"Kyle, get me a book, would you?" Cartman ordered, though worded it as a question.

"Get it yourself, fat boy," Kyle snapped as he and Stan stood to get their own. Yet, Cartman didn't join them. In the end, Kyle did get him a text book, but his deliverance of it was anything but nice. "Here, lardo," Kyle said, slamming the book into Cartman's stomach as he walked by.

"Aye!" Cartman growled after regaining his breath (the hit had knocked the air out of him). "You will respect my authoritay, Jew!" He aimed to trip Kyle as he walked by, but missed.

The children all took their seats again and Mrs. Crackhead instructed them to open to a certain page in their textbook. From some random reason or another, she was starting near the back.

"Yup, she must be French," Cartman muttered as she started writing out examples on the board and told them to copy them.

"Why?" Kyle questioned, beginning to write these questions down.

"'Cause she's starting from the back of the book. All French people read backwards," Cartman sighed, dragging out his own notebook and a pencil, which he sharpened with a hand sharpener.

"Dude, I think that's the Japanese," Stan commented, continuously looking from the board to the page he was writing on. He was definitely not used to taking notes. Neither was anyone else for that matter.

"Whatever," Cartman said dismissively. "I still say she's French."

Their morning continued like this for each class. There were notes, Mrs. Crackhead yelling at people (mainly Cartman as he complained about something) and much more chalk ending up on the front of the woman's clothing. When the bell for lunch rang, most of the class was more than happy to leave the room.

After quickly shoving things (including homework of all things; the horror) in their lockers, Stan, Kyle and Cartman rushed off to the cafeteria to get into line. After waiting for maybe two minutes, they finally reached the counter, where they were greeted by the new school chef. Apparently, his name was Cook. He was a middle-aged, Caucasian man who wore the apron of a chef, but not the cap. He was also a heavy-set guy, probably because he often tested a good deal of the food before he served it.

"Hello, children," the man greeted, much in the way Chef would, already spooning food onto plates and placing them on the three trays.

"Hey, Cook," they returned the greeting in sync, as per usual.

"How's the first day of school?" he asked conversationally, going to the refrigerator to get them something to drink.

Despite the fact that Cook was no Chef, they couldn't help but reply in the same way as always. Contrary to normal, though, they all spoke at once, but not the same answers.

"Shitty," Cartman declared.

"Okay," Kyle shrugged.

"Weird," Stan decided.

"Why… uh… shitty, okay and weird?" Cook was perplexed as he grabbed them some plastic utensils.

"The new teacher's a friggen French maniac," Cartman said. "A Canadian, French maniac, at that."

"You mean Mrs. Crackhead?" Cook asked and saw them all nod. "She's not so bad."

"She's weird," Stan said. "But better than Mrs. Garrison."

"No way, man! Mrs. Garrison didn't make us do shit all in class. Now we're taking notes and crap!" Cartman argued.

"You're holding up the line. Other kids would like their lunch, too," Cook told them and watched as they took their trays and continued to argue as they left. He sighed and prepared the next trays.

"You're just not used to having an actual class, Cartman," Kyle said as they headed to their seats.

"Nah-ah. She's just psycho," Cartman disagreed, sitting down and opening his small milk carton and taking a drink.

"I wouldn't say psycho, but-" Stan began.

"I would," Cartman interrupted, stabbing his fork into whatever was on his plate.

"But," Stan continued. "There is something weird about her. Did you notice that every time she got pissed off that… that… thing on her head, I dunno…"

"Pulsed?" Kyle supplied and saw Stan nod. "Yeah, I noticed it. Totally weird, dude."

"Maybe she's an alien," Cartman thought aloud with a mouthful of French fries. "That would explain everything."

Kyle just sighed and shook his head; Stan, on the other hand, seemed to agree. "Maybe, yeah."

"Oh come on," Kyle said after swallowing what he'd been chewing.

"It's not like aliens don't exist. Do I need to remind you of that time with Ike and-" Stan began.

"Yeah, yeah. The satellite came out of Cartman's ass, I know," Kyle interrupted.

"That was a dream, god damn it!" Cartman still insisted on saying it was a dream, one that he'd rather have not had them knowing about.

"I know she's weird and all that, but she just doesn't seem like an alien to me," Kyle shook his head.

"Who, Mrs. Crackhead?" Wendy asked as she and Bebe happened to walk by their table and pick up on the conversation.

"Yeah. Total alien," Cartman pressed.

"No way. She's just a normal teacher," Wendy sat her tray down and insisted on sitting at their table, forcing Stan and Kyle to shove over on the bench. Though she didn't seem to want to, Bebe took a seat beside Cartman, not about to leave her best friend.

"Except for that bubble, Wendy," Bebe piped up.

"I told you, Bebe. It's probably just some birth defect or something. You know, like Nurse Gollum," Wendy said pointedly, even pointing her fork matter-of-factly at the blonde.

"I agree with Wendy on this one," Kyle said.

"You two are such a cute couple," Cartman said with a smirk, which earned a packet of ketchup being thrown at him. "Aye!"

"Cartman, shut the hell up," Kyle snapped, picking up his fork again, though keeping another packet of ketchup close by.

"Come on guys. Maybe we should just try and make the best of this year. We are free from Mrs. Garrison finally, right?" Stan broke the tension, though the comment of Kyle and Wendy being a couple made him a bit edgy. They weren't going out and it just seemed kind of weird. It brought him back to the whole experience of Mrs. Garrison's child-rearing experiment with the eggs.

"Yeah. No more Mrs. Garrison," Kyle nodded.

"No. Now we get someone way worse," Cartman said and they all just kind of looked at him. "I know these things guys! It's like a sixth sense!"

"Sure it is," Wendy shook her head, eating some of the salad that she'd told Cook to put on her plate.

"How can you think that someone with a strange bubble on their head is going to be good?" Cartman challenged.

Wendy just ignored him, but Cartman took it as a sign of defeat.

"See! See!" he said, downing the rest of his milk now. "This year's going to be way fucked up! It'll be grade four all over again… except worse!"